


Dear Harley,

by Harlequin4ever, Karacullen23



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Divorce, F/M, Love Letters, Sex Addiction, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlequin4ever/pseuds/Harlequin4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karacullen23/pseuds/Karacullen23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And here's the brutal truth that I have been struggling the hardest to say to you for so long now. Because my own guilt gets in the way. Because I don't feel worthy to even ask you to understand... much less forgive or harder still... accept:</p><p>My name is Bruce Gallio. And I am a sex addict.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Harley,

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harlequin4ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlequin4ever/gifts).



Dear Harley,

December 8, 2014

I'm sitting down to write you a letter because there is so much that I have been meaning to say to you for what feels like ages now. Only everytime you're actually right here in front of me, I seem to lose the words and get all tongue tied. My therapist suggested that I try putting all of these thoughts and feelings that I find so difficult to verbalize to you, down on paper. I know it seems strange and even silly, it sure feels awkward. Then again, you're a brilliant psychiatrist, so you probably know a hell of a lot more about this sort of thing than I do. In any case, even if you never lay eyes these words, my therapist insists that the activity in and of itself will be a form of therapeutic relief, and lord only knows I could use some of that right about now. 

I really can't even remember at what point in time things started to feel ... this is so difficult... I can't begin to remember at what point over the years that I first began to feel.... frustrated?... Uncertain? Unsure... ? No. Frustrated. Frustrated and uneasy. Not necessarily with you or even our relationship, but just... inside of myself. Because honestly, Harls, I can't ever remember a day in my entire life that I ever didn't frustrated and ... insecure. And you have no idea just how difficult that is to admit to you of all people. I've always wanted you to feel safe. 

Even before I loved you, before you even knew I existed, I had made a promise to Luke and Harley, I know in light of all the promises I have broken to you that it's probably hard for you to understand just how important is to me that I keep my promises. When I'm unable to honor those promises, it's like a little piece of my own self-worth is lost forever. 

But now I'm rambling. Back to the point. I made a promise to your brother that I would always keep you safe, above all else, I promised to keep you safe. But how can you possibly feel safe when the man who is meant to be your protector, feels so vulnerably insecure and so... not safe himself? I could never tell you. I could never... I could never ... show you that I felt that way. I could never... well let me stop right there. It wasn't that I couldn't ever show you or tell you. It was more that I felt like I couldn't or shouldn't show you. Because if I let on, it would somehow make me less of a man. Less worthy to be your protector. Less worthy to be your husband. 

I wanted so desperately to be your rock. To be your strength and your courage so that you could be happy. So that you could feel free to go out into the world and not have to fear anything. I never wanted either you or our children ever to feel how I've spent most of my life feeling. I didn't want my family to ever feel lost, unsure, afraid, or... or lonely. 

Unworthy.

My therapist insists that many of my most deep rooted issues all stem from these basic feelings. Something to with losing my parents at such a young age and in such a traumatic, out of control way. But you're the shrink in this family, I'm sure you've already analyzed it all a thousand times and then a thousand more. I don't really care to know why I am the way that I am. Why it seems that everything I touch always turns to shit. I just want to know how the fuck to stop it. How to fix it. And apparently, I'm supposed to just "accept" the fact that I can't fix any of it. I'm sure you can understand just how fucking ridiculously frustrating that is! 

But Harls, we've always had our ups and downs. We always got through them before. So what's changed now? Where did we go so wrong? Was it a gradual thing just happened over the years, or was it a collection of different, larger issues in recent times? Why can't we seem to get past things now? These are all questions that keep me up nights, that torment me to the point where I run for booze or.. other distractions, just so that I can have a few precious moments of peace. An escape. 

That's one explanation. Apparently my addictive personality stems from a multitude of different things that I can't even begin to get into depth about or really understand. And besides, that all just feels like excuses to me and I don't want to hide behind excuses. I want to own my faults, my mistakes, so that I might be able to better recognize them and hopefully sidetrack or stop them altogether. Any yes, my therapist has already told me at least half a dozen times how unrealistic a goal like that is. I don't care. It's how I feel. It's what I hope to achieve. 

But what really runs over and over through my mind so often is the question: At what point did things really start to turn? What changed? 

Well, I know exactly at what point it all seemed to change. And how. And Harley, please... keep in mind that I am not pointing any fingers, I am not laying any blame, and I am not accusing or excusing anyone or anything. I am only making observations. I could be entirely wrong, but I can only speculate according to my own perception of events and how strongly those events seemed to affect me. You might have an entirely different perception of events, just as you might entirely different opinions. It's what makes us human, Harls. That's just being human. It doesn't make either one of us wrong or right. It just... it just is as is. 

And here is how I see it: 

Because for the most part, before you pointed it out, I wasn't even aware that there was a problem. I wasn't aware that I ... had a problem. Much less that my problem was causing you problems. 

I know that seems strange. I mean, it wasn't like I wasn't aware that what I was doing wasn't right. I just... and please forgive me for being so epically selfish and blind and... well the therapist insists I was also in denial. But I honestly didn't see that it was a problem, and I didn't see how it was hurting you. 

I won't deny that I did recognize that it was hurting me. And that's that selfishness again. Those self-centered blinders. I knew all along that what I was doing was wrong Harley. And you might think that I didn't care, but I did. I always have. It's always... and god this is going to sound so pathetically and disgustingly selfish right now but it's how I felt and communicating my feelings to you is the entire purpose of this stupid letter. ... It's always hurt me. 

I guess I didn't worry about what it was doing to you because I seriously didn't think that you were even aware of what was happening. Stupid, yes I know, but apparently that's what denial is and can do to a person. As the brilliant shrink that you are, I'm sure you know all about it this ways and that way and every way inside and out. I'm kind of new at this here. And I admit that I don't really understand it, but I'm just repeating what I've been told here. 

The point. I didn't think you knew. And what a person doesn't know can't hurt them right? Or is that just more denial rationale? But I knew Harley. I knew what I was doing, and I knew what I was doing was wrong, and even as the guilt ate away at me like acid from the inside out, I still couldn't... I still couldn't stop. 

I still can't. 

I still can't stop. 

Even now. And christ, Harley I've tried. I've tried so hard and I'm not going to stop trying! I've been going to the meetings like you wanted me to, and I've searched out help just like you wanted me to. But if you want to know a secret... 

I've never told you this before. I'm not sure how you'll react, and I'm terrified, but ... 

Harley, I started attending those meetings almost an entire year before you confronted me about my infidelity. 

My attendance was spotty, but I went now and again when I felt the need to go. When the need threatened to become too overwhelming the point where the danger of discovery was close. And when all the guilt and confusion that I was carrying around started to weigh on me to a point where again... I was afraid you would notice something. Because in those last few months leading up to that point when you confronted me about my infidelity, I had become so goddamned paranoid constantly that you were suspicious. That paranoia was probably the worst, aside from the guilt. It's such a... sickening, consuming, distracting feeling that you forget to live your life. Forget to enjoy or create those precious moments that make life worth living. 

So in the beginning I started going to those meetings because I was afraid I was going to get caught. And I wasn't afraid of you leaving, or of you hating me. Well, yes maybe a little, obviously. But my biggest fear was that if you knew... it would hurt you. And Harls, hurting you was and still is the very last thing in this world that I want to do. 

I would as soon as rip out my own heart then hurt you. 

But there was another reason that I started going to those meetings too. Because the guilt and the fear were eating away at me so badly I could barely carry the weight anymore. I wanted to stop, Harley. With my everything, I wanted. to. stop. And... I couldn't. 

And that scared the shit out of me. 

It was only then that I first suspected that I had a real "problem." 

And here's the brutal truth that I have been struggling the hardest to say to you for so long now. Because my own guilt gets in the way. Because I don't feel worthy to even ask you to understand... much less forgive or harder still... accept:

My name is Bruce Gallio. And I am a sex addict. 

No matter how many meetings I attend, no matter how many years of therapy, that is never going to change. I might one day be strong enough... wise enough that I am able to deny those ... cravings. I might one day be strong enough to be the faithful husband that you deserve. But whether or not I am actively giving into my addiction... I will always be a sex addict. Those feelings... those... cravings and needs... they're not going to go away Harley, and I have to live with that every day. I have to endure that every single day. And I have to ... I have to fight that every single day. 

And I will fight. I won't ever stop fighting. Whether or not you can accept me as I am or for who I once was or could one day be. I will never stop fighting because I don't want to be that man anymore. I don't want to be weak anymore. I don't want to be... alone anymore. 

I've fucked up Harley. Over and over again, and I'm still fucking up even now. 

But I will keep attending those meetings, twice a week, every week for the rest of my life. I will keep seeing a therapist, every fucking week for the rest of my life. 

Because I am not going to give up. 

And I am begging you...

please don't give up on me either. 

I love you, Harls. I always have, and I always will. And that's something that is never going to change. So long as my lips draw breath and my heart beats. I love you.

*

Harlette hadn't bothered staying in New York. Hadn't paid for a hotel room. It was just too painful. Yet another City in which her heart was destroyed. So she'd driven all the way back to Gotham. The dull ache in her hands could never compare to the aching inside. 

She parked and hopped out, grabbing the mail. As she headed on into her apartment, there was one that stood out from all the junk mail. This particular one wasn't junk. If he was writing to her, then this wasn't a good sign. She dropped her bag and coat at the door, keys in the bowl at the front and shut the door. 

Opening it was hard. With trembling fingers, she hesitantly pulled on the paper inside and started reading. 

The words were clear as day. And finally she had gotten to understand his point. By the end, there were even more tears streaming down her cheeks. She sobbed and held the pieces of paper against her chest and cried. 

She cried until she couldn't. She had already made up her mind. So wiping away the endless tears, she got up, wrapped her hands in bandages so that the stitches wouldn't tear, ate, showered and got ready for bed. 

The blonde would leave as soon as she woke, all the way back to NY. Back to Bruce and tell him.... 

Tell him the hardest thing she'd ever had to tell anyone.

***

She hadn't slept much. Between the nightmares and the cries of pain, tossing and turning across the empty bed...the sun was coming up and Harleen knew that she was only delaying the inevitable.

She threw on jeans, converses and a long sleeved black top and tied her long hair back into a messy bun. Grabbing her jacket, keys and bag, she slid into her car and started on the journey back.

The radio was kept off for certain reasons, leaving her alone with her thoughts. A dangerous combination, but she couldn't face listening to any songs. Before she even realized, she was there. Parking in the hotel car parks, she rode up the elevators all the way to his floor. The doors opened and she stood there for what seemed like forever, before stepping out.

The walk to his room down the hall seemed far too tedious to be helpful and suddenly she was outside his room. This was it. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand, and knocked three times...

Bruce knew who was at the door even before he answered it and saw Harley standing there. An unreadable expression on her face.

He had been anxiously dreading this confrontation ever since he'd posted that letter. That had been a little over three days ago and he had not left this room since then.

Afraid he might miss her should she come. 

And while he thought that he had already resigned himself to her inevitable rejection... he knew that she needed to say what she needed to say on the matter. As much as it would hurt, that prospect of his soul being ripped out him, Bruce had said all he had needed to say.

And now it was Harley's turn.

He owed her that much...at least.

"You got the letter." A statement of fact. No question. Why else would she be here? 

So steeling himself, Bruce stepped back so that Harley could come inside.

A thousand and one emotions ran through her little body in that one instant. She nodded and came in. She had been thinking about what the hell to say in a situation like this, but she couldn't find the right words. Hopefully now she would be able to get it all out. How she felt, and had been feeling about it all. 

She placed her bag and jacket down on the couch and stood behind it, taking a deep breath. "Thank you for being honest. I'm a little hurt that you couldn't actually tell me in person, but I'm glad I got to know anyways. I understand it's difficult. You've said your peace, and now I need to tell you mine." 

She played with her hands, because the bandages were annoying her to death, and sniffed. "I thought that I'd be the one to tame Bruce Gallio. That I was the only one he'd ever truly see. Past all the clowning around, all the insanity." She inhaled slowly once more. "I was wrong. It wasn't just you. It was Jack. And Spencer. Jonathan too. Even Dean." 

She felt like she had to move, and started pacing around the room. "I've always felt that I couldn't let you go. Each and every time we left each other. I could never really let go. Because I knew that we were destined to be with each other. I kept telling myself, ours is the greatest and most tragic love story the world has ever seen. So why should I have to give you up, when you're the other half of my soul?" 

Harlette stopped pacing. "There have been more downs than ups lately. I need you to know that I love you. I love you so goddamned much. But right now, I hate you. I hate you more than I love you now. I hate you for everything you've put me through. And I can’t… I can’t forgive all the heartbreaks... Luke, Kara, Christi-Ann, Selina, Clark, Sara, Auri.... and the nameless faces. All the ones I don't even know about. You can blame me all you want about Spencer, but you've got nothing on me. I let him go.. I made my peace with him and what we did." 

Her blue orbs flickered up at him. "I knew you'd be back. I knew I'd go running back to you. Like always. But it never really hit me until the other night." She finally looked up at him properly. "That I can live without you in my life. And through all the heartbreak and torture... I still /chose/ you. Over and over again. Because I couldn't see the point in living if you and I weren't together. I didn’t even know who I was without you." 

She went over by the window and looked out. "Now I know that I can live without you. It was the exact moment I realized... If I hadn't come back. If I hadn't been brought back then you'd be happy. I just want you to be happy, can't you see?" Her fingertip traced across the glass. "I interfered too much. I was selfish and angry. And for that, I'm so sorry. To put you through all that hurt and suffering. I wish that I could take it all back. To fix it, make it right." 

Tears welled in her eyes and she turned to him once more. "I wish, that I could take it /all/ back. I chose you over everything. Over everyone else who might have loved me. I chose you over Jack, Jonathan, even Dean. Dean promised me a normal life. He promised me he would love and protect me. I believe him. But he can't love me the way that you do. No one can." 

The blonde walked up to him, tears plopping down her cheeks. "The reason why I got so angry, so upset, so hurt because of all of them... Because they will /never/ love you, like the way I do. I will never stop loving you." She didn't know if Bruce wanted her last affection, but she cupped his cheek and built up the courage to say it. 

"But I need to let you go so we can be free and at peace."

Bruce had thought he was prepared for her words. But expecting to hear a certain answer, steeling yourself against the painful possibility... could never properly prepare anybody against the actual reality of ... saying goodbye. 

He shouldn't have been surprised. He wasn't a fool, he had known it was coming. And yet, standing here before her like this, in a place such as this, a generic, impersonal hotel room. It was just such a strange sense of unreality that after all their years of being utterly consumed together, that this would be the place where it ended. A place that held none of the memories that all came flooding into his heart while she spoke. Those precious memories which seemed to mock the present reality. Memories he knew would haunt his breaking heart for all the rest of his days. 

This wasn't a dress rehearsal. This wasn't a desperate ploy to illicit some passionate reaction out of him. This wasn't the scene they'd rehearsed and performed countless times before during their passionate though tumultuous relationship. In which the beautiful heroine with a raw and desperate heart torments the hero with the prospect of goodbye. All in the hope that the hero would sweep her into a passionate embrace. Burn through her soul with his pretty promises of undying devotion and his most sincere and desperate life or death need for her unending love... 

There would be no happy ending. No matter how strong, no matter how pure and true, love... would not win out afterall.

This was really happening. 

She was letting him go. She was saying goodbye. And he was expected to be a man capable of accepting that. 

Bruce had thought he would be strong enough to let her go should those be her wishes. But as he stood there, his cold fingers and palms sweating within the confines of his jeans pockets, he felt completely unprepared afterall. He had thought he'd said all he had needed say. Thought that for once, he had been able to express everything he'd struggled with communicating to her all along. But he realized now, that he hadn't even begun to scratch the surface. 

While struggling to impart some sort of understanding, it seemed obvious to him now that he had failed to get his most important message across. Though his mind reeled, struggling to reach that which had kept eluding him. Even now. 

Bruce had tried to explain to her again and again. And yet, he'd always felt like there was something so important that he was failing to see. Failing to impart. 

He had never loved any of them. Even when he might have thought for a breath that he did. In the end, nothing had ever held up. Even with Selina. Though some of them might have loved him. And loved him desperately at that. But in the end... whatever Bruce might have thought he'd felt for any of them, had always just somehow... vanished. He felt nothing. Nothing but an empty, raw, hole that no matter what he did or didn't do, he could never quite manage to fill that void. 

And as these thoughts raced desperately for some sort of purchase, some sort of epiphany while the clock timed down... her warm palm came up to gently cup his face. With a sharp intake of breath he closed his eyes against his tears and his own cold palm came up to cover hers. 

With those last words she spoke, his anxiously fluttering heart gave a sudden, great lurch in his chest. His eyes flew open. There was a cool, soft sort of heartbreak in those big, precious blue eyes of hers. Eyes of pale sapphire... 

"It was never their love that I wanted Harley, it was yours." .... 

Tears broke free from his eyes as those words spilled unbidden from his lips. 

He blinked. Dropping his hand from hers as he took a step a back. Surprised as the truth of his words settled over him, fitting perfectly into place over his heart. His heart beat powerfully against his ribcage as it finally hit him. 

He had never had any doubt in his heart how he felt about her. He had loved her since the moment he first set eyes on her from the shadows. And unlike all the others, that feeling never faded, never vanished, even for a heartbeat in all of these years. It was the one constant. As sure as the sun would rise and burn in the sky, so he had always burned with his love for her. 

So sure of his own love. So consumed by it as he was, he had never thought to flip that around. Never thought the impossible. That as much as he loved her, what she felt for him in return might not have matched up. He never doubted that she loved him. 

He was doubting that now. Now that it was too late. 

So what good was this heartbreaking epiphany? What was the point in this powerful breakthrough now that it was too late? 

She might have believed that she had loved him. How could she not? When he'd hit her so hard with the power of all of his own love, she would have been completely overwhelmed and lost to it. Drowning in it. He had completely her swept away into his own powerful vortex and had never allowed her the chance to come up for air. That kind of passion. That kind of devotion was hard to turn away. Difficult to break free from. And Bruce had never given her the chance to stop and think if this was what she really wanted. If /he/ was what she wanted. If here with him had ever really been where she truly belonged. Until now.

"I.. " He was still reeling. His heart splintering and seeming to shatter entirely with the revelation. He stumbled back to fall into a chair by the window. Outside the sky was rapidly darkening despite the early hour. The sinister, dark clouds rolling in to swallow up what was left of the sky. It was going to be a bad storm. Already he could feel the temperature dropping as he pressed his heated face against the cool glass. The first white flurries began to flutter down from that dark sky. The arctic wind gusting through to set them swirling into an almost mesmerizing dance behind the glass as he watched. 

"I'll contact the lawyers. See if we can't have the necessary papers drawn up by weeks end. Hopefully we can have it all concluded before Christmas."

The look in his eyes. Those perfect, sweet, pretty blues of his. They would break her heart till her last dying breath. She was grateful that he didn't push her away, she really needed that. So desperately. Call it her last wish. 

And when he finally stepped away from her and went over to the window, she wiped away her tears, and nodded. Christmas would be now and forever tainted. She wouldn't celebrate it anymore. It held too many dark memories. 

"You know we can't see each other after this.." Her voice broke and she had to take a moment to breathe. "This is going to be even harder to hear... But...you can't be in the baby's life. Its just too much to handle. She's going to be human.. I have a chance to raise a child properly." 

Inhaling sharply, she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I always hated goodbyes.."

Bruce had been prepared for rejection. He had been prepared for goodbye. It was going to take some time, but in light of more recent revelations, he would be able to accept that it was over and move on. 

But Harleen's last request was something that he had not been prepared for. 

Never in his wildest imagination would he have even considered that she could ever be so cruel. 

Had she pulled out a rusted blade and plunged directly into his heart, it might have hurt less than those words that he could not even believe had been spoken. 

It was too inconceivable. Even through the pain and the shock, something seemed to suddenly snap inside of him. 

He flew to his feet, his eyes which only a moment ago had been filled with a reserved, silent heartbreak, were now flashing brightly in determined rage brought on by a bleeding pain he had not prepared himself for. 

"I never knew you could be that cruel Harleen." His face was hard, his body trembling as he moved to loom over her. "Ask for whatever concessions you want, but there is no way on god's green earth that I would /ever/ for one second agree to allowing that." 

His eyes flashed to her baby bump and he grit his teeth, using every ounce of control he contained to keep from shouting or even strangling her right then and there. The sudden surging of hate he was feeling towards her left his head spinning and his chest heaving. Never in all their years had he ever felt such emotions towards her. Never in all his years of loving her had he ever imagined it even possible he could feel this way. But here it was now, and he fought hard to contain it. 

"That is my child you're carrying too, Harleen. I'm not running away from her. I fully intend to be very much present and a part of her life. And I'm warning you right now, if you think you can fight me on this, think again. If you want to make this nasty... I can make this nasty. Just given your actions during the course of your pregnancy would speak iota's in court in regards to just what kind of a mother you would be. Engendering both yours and the babie's while out hunting monsters human or otherwise. Let's not forget your most recent job taking your clothes off for strangers. By the time my lawyers are done with you, you will be lucky if you're granted so much as supervised visitation rights on weekends!" 

His voice had been steadily rising in his anger. He had to stop to check it now. "I ... I can't even..." Taking in a deep breath to steady his trembling, he closed his eyes. "I can't even look at you right now. You have to leave." 

The words were strained, and when she didn't seem to move fast enough to leave, his eyes shot open to sizzle dangerously at her. "I said, GET OUT!"

The blonde was in shock. This... This was the part about him she hated the most. Cruel? He must have known that was coming. Her jaw clenched her own anger seethed and bubbled deep within her. Bruce thought intimidating her would work. Only it didn't, she just glared right back at him, and unreadable expression on her face. 

But then he turned on her and she took it all, silently. It was times like this, when he got so unbearable to listen to, that she reverted to mentally strangling or stabbing him. She couldn't help it. Violence was in her nature. 

"Nasty?" Her eyes flashed darkly, ice like poison. "I was never going to get nasty this time, but clearly you've over thought it already." She spoke quietly, seething at him while he had shouted. "/Clearly/ you want to wrap your hands around my throat and squeeze. It's only what I've wanted to do to you back." 

Harleen took a step back from him, pure revulsion in her gaze. "How dare you throw that all in my face, when your own parenting went down the shit hole." Her eyes narrowed. "How's the twins, Bruce? Are they home yet, hmm?" She couldn't even look at him either and went over to slip her coat on. 

"If you're going to be a fucking cunt over it all, the baby's yours to keep. Have her. She doesn't need someone like me in her life. You can tell her in your own words. Your favorite word for me, so it seems. 'Whore'. Fits, right doesn't it, Bruce?" The blonde buttoned up to the collar. 

"Because even now, that's what you're thinking." Grabbing her bag, she opened up the door. "Send whatever papers you want, I'll sign them so long as I never have to see you again." And with that, she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

Bringing up their twins like that was definitely another low blow. Bruce shouldn't have been so surprised at how nasty she could be when she had a mind for it. There was a part of him that could understand why she would prefer that they never lay eyes on one another again. But telling him she didn't want him to have any part whatsoever in his own daughter's life had so shocked and so hurt him that he wasn't exactly thinking straight at the moment. The hurt was too great, and his emotions took over. 

She could say whatever she liked about Spencer and Aurora, at least he had been there. Had least he had /tried/ with all of his heart, even if in the end all his efforts might have seemed like a failure. It didn't mean that he hadn't learned anything from the experiences.

No parent was perfect. Ever. After Harley had left, Bruce had been left alone to struggle with keeping his grieving family together and sane. Trying to lavish enough love on them in hopes that he could somehow give them enough love to equal two parents. Only he could never give them what they'd really needed, and that was a mother. 

So he might have overindulged his little girl a bit too much. He might have been over his head when it came to trying to get through a grief stricken Spencer. That didn't mean that he hadn't tried. It didn't mean he had loved either of his children any less. He had always failed to get through to his son, but Spencer had fought him every step of the way. Spencer hadn't wanted Bruce, he had wanted his mother. And in his grief he had turned to his twin sister. Auri had been the only one that Spencer had ever allowed to get close. 

Bruce knew was only too aware where he had gone wrong. Did Harley really think that he would make the same mistakes again? Did she really have so little faith in his abilities. In where his heart lay. His children had been his purpose and his world.

Did she know him so little after all these years? 

She was right about one thing though. Though he had never once in all their years ever physically struck or harmed her, the urge to do so now was almost overpowering. He had never even for a heartbeat felt hatred toward his wife, but that emotion was surging powerfully through his heart in this instant. And that both shocked and terrified him. 

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and he let her. Sinking back down into the chair by the window trying to contain himself and these new, frightening emotions. 

Bruce had always loved her. What's more, he had always accepted her. All of her, in whole. The good and the bad. Through passion and through frustration. There had never been one part of her that he had not loved because he had accepted her as a whole person. A whole package of millions of little things that made her who she was. 

He realized now that she had never afforded him the same kind of loving. She had been incapable of accepting him, all of him as he was. It was ironic that only now he could see it all so clearly. That elusive, deep seeded answer hidden in the darkest recesses of his own psyche. The very possible motivation for why he had struggled so long with the particular addiction that he did. 

All along he had only been trying to fill that void where his wife should have been, and never was. 

It made sense. 

And yet, what good were all these revelations now that it was too late? 

It was more than ironic. It was ... sad. 

Bruce sank into his chair, his tumultuous eyes stinging as he pressed his cheek once more to the chilled window glass beside him. Outside the storm had begun in earnest now. The wind howled mournfully through the city, shuddering the windows. Mirroring Bruce's own inner turmoil. 

He had the sense of mind to send a silent plea to his son, that he look out for and ensure a safe journey home for Harleen in the storm. And then his mind shut down. And Bruce felt nothing more. Escaping to hide within that hole deep inside of himself which had been his damnation for so long.


End file.
